


These Petals, This Dreaming, Yet I Wake Up To You

by gansey_is_our_king



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Is Trying His Best, Boys Kissing, Dreams, How Do I Tag, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, More Fluff, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish, Some angst, There are cows, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 19:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20278234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gansey_is_our_king/pseuds/gansey_is_our_king
Summary: Adam would have left already, almost certainly from Monmouth given the source of his texts. That gave Ronan about thirty minutes to scrounge up something edible.Not that Adam was ever particular about food.Not that the Hondayota was the most reliable car in the world.It had broken down on the way to the Barns one time before, resulting in a memorable night during which Ronan got eaten alive by mosquitoes as he stood over the open car hood, shining a flashlight on the useless engine and complaining because Adam stubbornly refused to leave his car in a ditch halfway out of Henrietta.





	These Petals, This Dreaming, Yet I Wake Up To You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my loves! Titles are unbearably hard to come up with, as well as summaries, but I had fun writing this in bits and pieces over the last few months, and then all in a rush at the end. Hopefully you have fun reading it too! 
> 
> Just trying to get all my half-done fics up here before Call Down The Hawk comes out :)

**Before**

It was very late when Gansey parked at the edge of the winding gravel drive that lead up to the Barns, the moon a sharp silver blade in the velvet sky. Blue had rolled down all the windows at some point, but the Pig was still running, and it was still stinking like gasoline, the familiar smell of dewy grass and dirt just barely reaching them inside the car. The engine clanked and rattled in distress above the soft rustle of leaves. 

“Ronan?” Gansey said.

He was rarely uncertain, but it bled through his voice that night. He craned his neck around to check the back seat, where Ronan had sprawled out as much as the tight quarters allowed, combat boots resting dangerously close to the passenger side window. Matthew was with him, looking just as blond and broad as ever, despite having just recently emerged from the trunk of a feral white Mitsubishi.

His knees were a temporary pillow for Ronan, wrinkled cargo pants lightly scratching the shell of his ear when Ronan turned his head.

Gansey looked at him, and Ronan looked back.

His pulse hummed.

“Are you ready?” Gansey added.

Ronan had been ready for a long time. 

He nodded, and then he passed Gansey the large manila envelope he had dreamed up as the Pig wound slowly away from Henrietta. It was already damp from his sweaty hand. Gansey took the envelope from him rather gingerly, like it contained a bomb, or something incredibly breakable.

It was possible both descriptions were accurate.

They all watched Gansey tip the envelope over in his lap with the same careful attention that he normally devoted to his journal containing all things Glendower.

_Last Will & Testament of Niall T. Lynch._

Ronan let his fingernails cut into his palms while Gansey flipped methodically through to the very last page of the document, reading it over with a curious light in his eyes. Matthew squirmed under Ronan in an attempt to lean forward, accidentally knocking an elbow into the side of his head.

“Ow! Fuck, Matty.”

“What does it say?” Matthew implored. “Let me see!”

“Give it to Blue,” Ronan told Gansey, who immediately did so. Blue only glanced at the papers for a second before turning to look at Ronan instead. She was frowning just slightly, not in frustration, but with a fixed determination.

“Are we doing this or what?” she said.

“I think…” Gansey started slowly.

“Yeah,” Ronan answered. 

Blue reached over to roll up the windows, but Matthew added softly, “Not yet.”

Gansey put the Pig in gear.

It growled over loose stones and scattered twigs and uncontrolled weeds that had grown across the driveway, and then Ronan could see the farm house, and behind it, the familiar barns that this fragile place had been named for. He shoved himself off Matthew, and had already scrambled from the Pig before Gansey had it in park again, the coughing of the engine muffled slightly where he was standing outside the car, the night air cool where it touched his warm face. 

He closed his eyes, just for a second.

“Ronan,” Gansey said again. He finally shut off the Pig and got out. Matthew barrelled past all of them in his hurry to reach the farm house, deflating slightly when he tried to turn the door handle and found it locked. Ronan stalked after him, moving slower than usual, letting his ears pick up on all the quiet sounds around him: the steady tick from the Pig as the engine cooled down, the faint chirp of crickets coming from the distant fields, the creak of the old porch steps under his heavy boots.

Matthew had located the spare key where they always kept it behind the boot pull, and the lock clicked back as Ronan reached him. 

Gansey and Blue brought up the rear.

Blue still held the will, and when Ronan made a grabbing motion she handed it back. He slid it carefully in the back pocket of his dark jeans for later.

“Why are we here again?” Matthew whispered.

It was completely dark inside the house, all the lights were out. Ronan found the nearest switch without too much difficulty, old habit telling him where put his hand. The bulb above them flickered, and then yellow light stained the artwork hanging on the walls, a pair of muddy boots left by the door in another life. Matthew peered around with uncontained excitement. Blue and Gansey shared a silent look.

Ronan hardly noticed.

His let his pulse lead him down the hall, past the front closet and the kitchen to the place where his mother still slept. She was all white and gold in the moon light spilling through the large sitting room window, waiting for him, waiting for him, waiting for him. 

Ronan reached out to her, a reflex he barely controlled in time to stop his fingers an inch away from her pale cheek.

He heard Declan again, the words curt and emotionless. 

_Nothing without dad_.

No one said anything, but Ronan knew they had all followed him in. He could hear the three of them breathing behind him, the squeak of the hardwood under their shoes. His chest burned. He realized that his hand was shaking. It was Blue that came to stand beside him, and she looked at Ronan, silently asking for permission before she touched Aurora Lynch on her narrow wrist, gently sliding the IV out of her arm. She helped Ronan remove the feeding tube, kicking aside the tangle of wires with her sneaker. 

Her expression was impossible in that moment, so much like Adam that it hurt to look.

“Matthew,” Ronan said, his voice cracking.

Matthew came, and he was quiet as he slid one arm around their mother and helped Ronan lift her carefully out of the chair. She was lighter than he had expected, and her head tipped back, her mouth slightly open. Gansey supported her neck while Ronan and Matthew manoeuvred her very slowly back down the hall and across the porch. Blue locked up the house behind them, and ran on ahead to open the back door to the Pig so they could lay Aurora gently across the seat. 

Matthew put her head in his lap. 

Ronan squeezed in beside him. 

_I’m coming back_, he thought as Gansey started up the Pig again and drove away.

Adam and Persephone were waiting for them. 

Cabeswater was waiting for them. 

Ronan felt the soft heat of a summer morning on his face as he stepped inside, and then he felt Aurora Lynch stirring slowly, his arm wrapped around her waist, her head lolling on his shoulder, and he turned to look at her when she finally opened her eyes.

“Mom.”

**After**

Ronan woke up with his pulse racing and a sob lodged in his throat. The soft black tee shirt he had worn to bed was sticking to his chest, cotton damp with sweat, and he tasted copper on his tongue. He could not move, could not even open his eyes, his mouth was still shaped around the last word he had uttered in his dream.

_Mom._

“Kerah!” The mattress dipped as Opal crashed down beside him in a frantic mess of tiny hands and hooves. Ronan heard Chainsaw flapping her wings in a sign of obvious distress from somewhere else in the room.

His stomach pitched.

He moaned through his clenched teeth, a wet, ragged sound. 

“Kerah!” Opal wailed again.

Ronan wanted to comfort her, the instinct an ache located deep in his gut, but he knew there was nothing to do but wait for the paralysis to wear off, his nerve endings sparking with fear the whole time as he anticipated what he could have brought back.

_Mom. _

He tried to twitch his fingers, but they refused to obey.

Opal only seemed to become more agitated, despite her acute understanding of how dreaming worked. The mattress squeaked as she shifted, the blankets slipping underneath him, and she kept grabbing uselessly at Ronan by his shirt and hands. The glorious moment that he felt his muscles unclench he sat up and shoved her a safe distance away from him, peeling open his sticky eyelids. He inspected first his own clothes, and then the twin bed for blood or a body.

It was probably a miracle that both were absent.

His dreaming had been more turbulent since Cabeswater sacrificed itself to bring Gansey back from the dead several months earlier, but today the evidence was mercifully tame, leaves and rose petals scattered across the mattress, all of them dead and dried up, a colourless souvenir spun out of his own memories of the forest.

Ronan scowled at Opal. “What?”

“Kerah,” she moaned sadly, and when he opened his arms she crawled into his lap. The soft crinkle of paper caught his attention, and Ronan looked down to find a single page clutched in her hand. She let him take it without argument, arms clutched around his neck.

There were staple holes in the top left corner, the entirety of the document mysteriously missing, and Ronan did not need to crane his neck to read the last paragraph.

_Article 7_

_Further Condition_

_Upon my death, my children shall be allowed free access to “the Barns”, although they may not once again take residence there until all have reached the age of eighteen._

He sighed and shoved the page angrily under his pillow.

Opal whined against his chest, and after a moment Chainsaw flapped over to perch on the mess of blankets.

“What are you two worried about?” Ronan muttered. “It was a dream.” But he still held Opal gently, extracting one arm to stroke Chainsaw in comfort. The three of them knew all too well that there was a very fine line between dreams and nightmares when it came to Ronan.

He finally pushed Opal away and climbed out of bed.

The window was cracked open just enough to allow cool evening air to spill in from the surrounding fields, and when Ronan paused in front of it he could see a handful of cows settled in the nearest pasture, all of them unmoving, asleep. Several deer picked their way between the distant copse of trees, one of them the pale buck he dreamed to endear himself to the rest of the more skittish herd.

Ronan peeled off his damp shirt and sweatpants.

He took a shower.

When he emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, there was a text message waiting for him, something that Ronan only noticed because he was really trying to be better at checking his phone.

Gansey: _where are you right now?_

He replied reluctantly.

Ronan: _where do you think dick?_

There was a bubble underneath his text that showed Gansey was typing, and as Ronan waited he pulled on his briefs and dark jeans and a new black tee shirt. The new text popped up when his shirt was still halfway over his head.

Gansey: _who are you calling dick? _

A moment later a second text appeared beneath the first.

Gansey: _this is Adam_

Ronan snatched up his phone again to pound out a response.

Ronan: _how am I supposed to fucking know that?_

Gansey: _intuition _

Ronan: _you’re the psychic Parrish not me_

Ronan: _are you coming over or what?_

Gansey: _that depends_

Gansey: _are you making dinner?_

Ronan decided his lack of response was answer enough.

Adam really was still a little bit psychic.

He tossed the phone aside and thundered down the stairs to the kitchen, followed by Opal and Chainsaw like Jesus was flocked by his faithful disciples. The kitchen still smelled sort of like the pancakes he had microwaved that morning when he arrived, and Ronan retrieved a soda from the fridge before he dared to look in the pantry. There were still a small variety of canned soup and vegetables left on the shelves, and several suspicious packets of things like stock that had probably expired years earlier.

Ronan checked the digital clock above the stove.

It was just after seven pm.

Adam would have left already, almost certainly from Monmouth given the source of his texts. That gave Ronan about thirty minutes to scrounge up something edible.

Not that Adam was ever particular about food.

Not that the Hondayota was the most reliable car in the world.

It had broken down on the way to the Barns one time before, resulting in a memorable night during which Ronan got eaten alive by mosquitoes as he stood over the open car hood, shining a flashlight on the useless engine and complaining because Adam stubbornly refused to leave his car in a ditch halfway out of Henrietta.

He had claimed this was because he had school the next morning, but they both knew that Ronan would have let him borrow the BMW.

Chainsaw flapped inside the pantry after him, knocking a can to the floor.

“Get the fuck out,” Ronan snapped, shooing her away.

He settled on beef ravioli and went in search of a can opener.

There was a pot was simmering on the stove by the time the soft sound of tires crunching over gravel reached the kitchen. Opal leapt up immediately from her favourite spot underneath the table, where she was chewing on an old toy car that had probably belonged to Matthew at some point, and Chainsaw joined her in clattering down the hall.

Ronan heard the muffled thud of boots on the front porch, and the familiar creak of the door as it opened.

Adam almost never knocked when he knew he was already expected. 

It made Ronan feel electric.

He poked his head around the corner just in time to see Opal collide with Adam before he had even fully stepped inside the house, and he let out a quiet _oof _as the breath was practically knocked out of him. Chainsaw immediately tried to land on top of his head.

Ronan laughed loudly.

“Asshole,” Adam offered, directing the familiar greeting and his glare at Ronan while Opal wrapped herself tightly around his right leg, making it almost impossible for him to move further inside.

She was already chattering away in Latin, and Ronan could have understood what she was saying easily enough if he was not so distracted by the way Adam looked just then, still wearing a threadbare tee shirt with his work coveralls tied around his waist. He had washed the car grease off his hands, but his dusty hair was sticking up messily from all the times that he had run his fingers through it that night. 

Ronan could smell the garage on him.

It combined pleasantly with the ravioli on the stove.

He called Chainsaw over to him, which left Adam to disentangle himself from Opal.

She still clung to his coveralls as he shut and locked the front door.

Ronan hardly blamed her.

He stomped impatiently across the kitchen to rescue the ravioli while Adam muttered something about needing a change of clothes. There were footsteps in the hall, and then on the stairs heading up. Ronan would have preferred Adam in the coveralls, but he kept his mouth shut, poking at the pasta suspiciously until the other boy reappeared several minutes later. His cheeks were still damp from the water he had splashed on his face, and Ronan immediately took back his earlier regret regarding the coveralls.

Adam had on a dark shirt and slacks that Ronan had left in his laundry hamper.

They were perfectly clean. Adam knew Ronan well enough by now to anticipate that his dirty clothes ended up on the floor about ninety percent of the time, leaving the hamper reserved for freshly washed laundry that was doomed never to return to his dresser.

He looked intolerable in all that black.

Ronan shoved the ravioli to the back of the stove and walked over to him.

“This okay?” Adam said. He plucked at the shirt hem. “I forgot a change of clothes.”

Ronan shrugged, too preoccupied with trying not to self-combust at the sight of Adam in his things. The slacks were riding distractingly low on his narrow hips, the waistband slightly too big, and the neck of the shirt was stretched out enough to show off his perfect collar bones.

Ronan wanted to lick the space between them.

He wanted Adam to keep wearing those slacks until he died. He wanted to get him out of them so fucking badly. 

“What?” Adam said. There was a small crease forming between his eyebrows.

“Nothing.” Ronan quickly turned away. “You can wear whatever you want. Hungry?”

Adam was always hungry, but he waited politely as Ronan retrieved the ravioli from the stove and three mismatched bowls from the cupboard above the sink. Opal joined them at the table, but she was predictably less interested in the food and more interested in telling Adam all about what she had done that day in excruciating detail.

“Kerah dreamed,” she admitted finally, much like Judas had betrayed Jesus.

Ronan scowled at her. “Are you going to eat that or what?” he snarled as he reached for her mostly untouched bowl, but even as he crammed more cold ravioli in his mouth he felt how the mood shifted around them. Adam brushed his ankle lightly underneath the table, possibly an accident, probably on purpose.

“Did you bring anything back?” he said, cautious.

Ronan deepened his scowl, and muttered _not really _with his mouth full, but knew that he was only delaying the inevitable.

Adam Parrish was nothing if not persistent.

They cleared the table in contemplative silence while Opal retreated to the fire pit behind the farm house. Well, Adam was probably contemplating. Ronan just felt tense and irritable as he rinsed out the dishes in the sink. Chainsaw had followed Opal as far as the back porch, taking up a familiar perch on the railing where she could observe the impending mess from a safe distance.

Ronan listened as they cawed back and forth, trying not to stare at Adam in his oversized slacks and tee shirt. The other boy wiped down the surface of the large dining table, and then retrieved a rarely used broom from the pantry to sweep around the edges of the kitchen, moving with a militant proficiency, and in absolute silence.

Ronan was never going to forget all the bullshit that Adam endured in the first seventeen years of his life, but seeing him like this reminded Ronan just how toxic the memories could be, sinking beneath the skin and lingering there even after Cabeswater and Glendower and Gansey dying again. Their scars ran deep, invisible at first glance, and glaringly obvious if you looked long enough.

“Parrish.” Ronan flicked the end of the dish towel at him.

Adam was too far away for it to matter, but he still looked around.

“Huh?” he said. Contemplating.

“You wanna check on the cows?” Ronan suggested casually. Adam nodded, and leaned the broom up against the edge of the table before following Ronan to the mud room. They pulled on boots and a pair of ratty flannel jackets to fend off the crisp December chill. It was decidedly dark outside by that point, almost nine, and Ronan could have grabbed a flash light, but instead he made his way to the nearest barn by memory alone, deftly avoiding any obstacles with the kind of precision one could only cultivate while growing up on a farm.

He eased open the heavy door to the barn, hinges creaking, the smell of cow shit and hay familiar as Ronan felt above the door frame for his dream flower. The silky petals still shone just as brightly as the day that he first manifested it, a warm glow spilling across the ground as they walked the rest of the way to the pasture.

The cows were still sleeping.

They were always sleeping, but Ronan paused next to each one regardless, and checked that they were all breathing, brushed his fingers through the white frost that collected around their large wet noses as winter closed in. Adam stuck close to his side while he worked, possibly because he was a little afraid of the motionless cows, probably because it was so dark, the flower only casting so much light as it hovered loyally above Ronan like a strange and lovely UFO.

Their arms kept brushing.

Adam eventually found his hand, cold skin on cold skin. It was perfect.

“I dreamed about mom,” Ronan admitted, when they had tramped through the entire field in silence and were back at the fence. He used his boot to press the barbed wire down a bit closer to the ground, and helped Adam step over it. Adam still held his hand, and his fingers were icy. His palm was dry from all the time that he spent lying under cars in the cold garage, and working on the finicky machinery at the factory.

Ronan wished he could afford to quit at least one job.

He kept pressing down on the barbed wire with his boot, and jumped over the fence with absolutely none of his earlier grace. Adam laughed as he caught him, one hand gripping his arm, the other coming to land on his chest.

Ronan knew the other boy could feel his heartbeat.

Adam curled his fingers in the flannel jacket. “Was it bad?” he asked.

Ronan shrugged. “Nah. I dreamed about the first time we took her to Cabeswater.”

“This summer?” Adam said. 

“Yeah. You were just starting to figure out all your magician shit.”

“You were just starting to figure out all your dreaming shit,” Adam responded softly.

Ronan smirked at him. “And you,” he added. 

Adam frowned in confusion. “And me… what?”

“I was figuring you out. Mostly. I was trying to.” Ronan let out his next breath in a rush.

Adam smiled. “Huh. That was sweet of you.”

“I was going to say it was super gay. But sure.”

“Funny,” Adam said, but he was still smiling as he pulled Ronan in, stretching up on his tiptoes until they were level and he could press their foreheads together. Ronan felt his breath on his cheek. His hair smelled like gasoline. Adam wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

Ronan already knew it was going to be the first of many kisses that night, because when he slid both hands down to grip Adam by the hips the other boy made a soft noise in the back of his throat and shifted even closer, because when Ronan licked his bottom lip Adam shuddered at the contact, because when they stumbled in a partially hidden gopher hole a moment later Adam yelped softly and threw both arms around Ronan, tight enough to nearly strangle him.

“What the fuck?” Ronan barked.

Adam was laughing again as they disentangled themselves. “Sorry,” he said, his face all lit up in the glow from the nearby dream flower. He was perfect. It was so fucking hard not to stare. Ronan kicked a lump of frozen dirt in the direction of the gopher hole to distract himself while Adam was tugging his flannel jacket straight.

“What did you bring back?” he added. “From the dream.”

“Nothing. Just some fucking leaves. And a page from the will my dad had made up.”

"Oh.” Adam nodded at that. Fucking contemplating. It looked so damn good on him.

“It could have been worse,” Ronan said. “It was a piece of paper.”

“Yeah.” There was a beat, and then Adam said, “Race you inside?”

He had read the situation perfectly.

Ronan grinned as he shoved past the other boy, taking off running across the yard before Adam even got his footing again. They crashed through the back door about a minute later, the dream flower trailing slightly behind Ronan now, his momentum enough to send the coat rack toppling to the floor.

Chainsaw cawed at them reproachfully from the living room. 

Adam reached automatically for the coat rack, but Ronan grabbed him and shoved him up against the nearest wall. Adam went with a soft _oh _of surprise and a thud. His hands found Ronan just as Ronan found his mouth.

They shed their boots and jackets slowly, still kissing.

“Opal?” Adam muttered distractedly, as Ronan pushed him towards the stairs.

“She fucked off somewhere to sleep. Stop worrying.”

“Ronan.”

“Mm?”

“Ronan.”

He stopped nosing at gasoline scented hair long enough to level a scowl at Adam. “Fucking what?”

“I just want to make sure,” Adam pressed. They crept the rest of the way up the stairs and down the hall to the bedroom that had previously belonged to Declan, although Opal had been sleeping in there long enough by that point to thoroughly un-Declan it. There were rocks and sticks and old bent nails lined up carefully in rows on the bare mattress and along the window sill. She had gathered up as many pillows and blankets as Ronan would allow, and made a kind of nest underneath the low bed frame, a crawl space no one else could penetrate.

Ronan had very nearly panicked the first time he found her sleeping there.

Adam had kissed him and told him not to overthink it. “She probably just feels safer under the bed,” he reasoned gently.

“I can keep her safe,” Ronan retorted grumpily. But he only removed the blankets when it was time to wash them.

Adam cracked open the door now to peek inside.

Ronan shoved him out of the way to get a better look.

The dream flower gave off enough light to illuminate a familiar lump curled up in the shelter of the bed frame.

“What did I tell you?” Ronan muttered.

Adam rolled his eyes.

They shut the dream flower out in the hall because Ronan felt weird about making out with Adam while it hovered gently above the bed. Adam peeled off his oversized black tee shirt almost immediately, which Ronan felt was both a disappointment and utterly delightful. He kissed Adam up against the door for a few breathless minutes, before they migrated across the room to the bed, tripping over articles of clothing that Ronan had carelessly discarded and never retrieved. Adam straddled him on the edge of the mattress, leaves all around them as he tugged eagerly at the hem of his tee shirt, leaving Ronan to memorize the freckles across his bare chest.

They kissed again and again.

Adam tasted his tattoo. Ronan kissed Adam all the way down his left arm, pausing at the pale bend in his elbow, and then again at his wrist, before finally moving on to his long fingers. He teased the knuckles with his teeth until Adam moaned quietly, the noise strangled, and told Ronan to stop screwing around.

He finally pushed the borrowed slacks off and tossed them on the floor. 

He tried to catch his breath.

“Is this okay?” Adam whispered, shifting a bit to lie on his side.

Ronan nodded silently.

It felt like his heart was exploding. His mouth had gone very dry all of a sudden.

“Will you tell me when to stop?” Adam said. 

Ronan nodded again.

They tangled back together, and Adam kissed Ronan, and Ronan tried not to die.

Adam curled up against his chest much later, both of them still a little sweaty, breathing hard as Ronan very slowly traced the knobs of Adam’s spine. He kissed one bare shoulder, and then the other. Adam hummed softly, and then Ronan felt a hand settling on his chest, right over his heart beat.

“Ronan,” Adam said.

He had said it several times over the last hour, more urgently.

Now he just sounded sleepy and content.

Ronan kissed along his neck, finally returning to his mouth, the only answer he knew.

Something crinkled softly under the pillow as they settled down in bed, trying to share the blanket fairly between them, which was much easier when Adam was practically lying on top of Ronan. He muttered something like _forget it_at the sound, his brain already going foggy with the lure of impending sleep, all the more coveted because he knew that Adam would still be there in the morning.

It was too late.

Adam pulled out the sheet of thick white paper, peering at it in the dark.

“Parrish,” Ronan muttered, a useless protest. But a moment later Adam carefully folded up the page and slid it back under the pillow. No discussion. No contemplation. At least not as far as Ronan could tell.

Adam put his head down on his chest.

His breath was hot and steady.

Ronan let it lull him slowly towards sleep, towards a new dream. 

He woke up in the morning with something sharp clutched in his hand. Adam waited patiently to peel open his fingers, and kissed all the places where thorns had pierced the skin as Ronan dropped a single blooming rose on the pillow beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I love all of you! Please drop a comment or kudos if you enjoyed this, knowing other people read my stuff and that it gives them feels always gives ME feels. 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: @alliwannadoiswrite


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